The Real Cicero
by Nanika
Summary: CHICAGO SHORT. What goes on inside the mind of Velma Kelly the night she kills Charlie and Veronica? (( Author note: Would like some R&R. If you like this one, check out


          "Didja hear, Al?  The Kelly sisters are upstairs in the town suite!"

          "No kiddin'!"

          The news was circulating widely through the Hotel Cicero, the most glamorous, glitzy place in downtown Chicago.  The word was not only spreading through the workers of the hotel, but extending to the customers.  Some of them craned their necks to look around, as if the sisters were sitting around in the lobby.

          The Kelly sisters had become a huge sensation through all of Chicago, topping entertainment for several months.  The pair that moved as one…that's how they were remembered to their fans.  In all actuality, they were just a couple girls that were lucky enough to make it big.  Velma and Veronica were their names.

          "They're up in the town suite with some man!  Do ya know who he is?"

          "Dunno, but he must be some lucky bastard!"

          Truth be told, the man with them was Velma's husband, Charlie Kelly.  He sold insurance, but no one else had to know that.  No one even had to know that Velma was married.  She preferred it that way.  When they didn't know she was married, she and her sister earned more money.  Simple, really.  The stupid johnnies could never tell the difference.  She didn't wear a wedding band.

          Up in the town suite, the three were having a good time.  Charlie was pouring the girls drinks, laughing jovially as he did so.

          "Hey, be careful with that," Velma said sharply as Charlie splashed some of the alcohol out of the glass.  "That's not cheap stuff, ya know."  She rolled her eyes a bit, taking a drag off her cigarette.  Bootleggers were becoming more popular, but it was hard to find one you could trust.  She'd read earlier that year that some foreign bird had gotten thrown into the Cook County Jail for accidentally killing someone with bad alcohol.

          "Don' worry so much, Vel," Veronica replied amiably, making a grab for one of the glasses.  "Loosen up!  We got a show in a couple'a hours."

          Velma nodded, watching the smoke curl toward the ceiling from the burning tip of her cigarette.  Her younger sister crawled toward her, pushing the glass along the floor.  She pawed her way onto the couch next to Velma, offering her the tumbler.  "You need a drink," she said somberly, forcing the glass into Velma's hand before giggling and scuttling away back to her own glass.

          Velma swirled the liquid in her glass a bit, taking a sip as she watched Veronica and Charlie boozing up.  Every couple minutes or so, they would make a toast to something or another.  Truth was, this evening Velma didn't feel much like getting smashed.  It sounded fine for any other day…she was usually a tad drunk during her performances (she found that the drink allowed her to loosen up)…but on this evening…she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but drinking didn't seem as _important as it usually did.  She lit up another cigarette, feeling content watching her sister and husband trip over themselves._

          "Ooo, we're outta ice, Vel," Veronica said, turning over the bucket of ice.  Well, they _had ice, but Veronica had just poured it all over the carpeting._

          "Honestly…" Velma mumbled, her cigarette held deftly in the corner of her mouth.  "Gimme that bucket.  How do you perform like that?"

          "Same way you do," Veronica replied, passing the empty bucket to her sister.  "Make them fill it up really good, will'ya?"  She held her hand drunkenly above her head to signify how much ice she wanted.

          "Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Velma murmured, carrying the bucket with her.  "Gotta touch up before I go.  You know how much press is gonna be downstairs?  All the babes'll want my picture for the paper."  She walked to the powder room, carefully rouging her full lips a dark crimson.  "It'll be on the front page and all.  'Velma Kelly Gets Her Ice At The Hotel Cicero!'"  She chuckled, checking up on her eye makeup, inspecting her outfit in the full-length mirror.  Her shining black bob cut was perfect, the rouge on her eyes as dark as the black irises themselves.  She ran pale hands down her slim sides, smoothing out the short, sequined black dress she wore.  Black garters, each adorned with diamond buckles, held up black fishnet hosiery that trailed down her luscious legs to sleek black heels.  She lit a new cigarette before heading out the door of the town suite.

          Velma was right, of course.  The moment she left the hall that the suite 

was located in, she came face to face with numerous photographers.  She accepted several pictures before excusing herself to the stairs.  She wanted to take the elevator, but it was common knowledge that every rubberneck in the lobby was probably waiting for she and her sister to come down.  "Besides," she thought reasonably.  "It'll give Mary Sunshine something nice to put in her papers.  'Velma Kelly Uses Hotel Cicero's Stairs!'"  She had to chuckle at the thought, posing for another picture.  That was just something that that Sunshine woman would do to save her paper.

          When she reached the front desk, she was almost positive that every person in the whole of Hotel Cicero was crammed down in the lobby, vying for a look at the famous Velma Kelly.  "Take a picture," she thought, excusing herself by an admirer, "it'll last longer."

          "Ice," Velma said, handing the bucket over to an attendant behind the front desk, slipping a few dollar bills along with it.  The man behind the counter looked so shocked that he hurriedly returned her money, filling the bucket quickly for her, returning to gawk a moment.

          "Well, aren't you the efficient one…" she murmured, nodding her thanks to the hotel attendant before returning to the mass of people in the lobby.  As she made her way back through the crowd, receiving at least two dozen more pictures, she guessed, she finally reached the elevator, ringing the bell.  Fast exits were where elevators came in handy.

          "Third floor," she said, stepping in as the elevator boy opened the gate for her.  She turned, offering a smile and a gallant wave to her fans before the boy closed the gate.  He pulled on the lever, and they quickly rose out of the sight of the ones in the lobby, whereupon Velma let out a long sigh of relief.

          Velma snubbed out the end of her cigarette in a standing tray at the elevator's opening on the third floor, walking along the hall toward the town suite at the end.  As she neared the door, she could hear scuffling and heavy moaning from within.  A crooked grin twisted Velma's lips as she unlocked the door.

          "Find a playmate, Veronica?" she asked her younger sister as she pushed open the door.  The sight that she met, though, made the smile melt off her face, revealing a look of complete shock, and dark, narrowed eyes replacing her careless glance of before.  The bucket of ice dropped from her slackened hands, bouncing twice on the rug, spilling small ice cubes across the rug.

          The sound seemed to rouse the two that were slithering about half naked above the sheets.  Veronica took a long drink from her glass, lounging back once again as Charlie raised his face from between her slender legs.

          Horror flashed Velma's features, and she fled to the powder room.  She gripped the edge of the sink so tightly that her knuckles turned even whiter, and she risked a glance up at herself once, seeing the anger on her face.  Half-thoughts were screaming through her brain, but she couldn't seem to put one and two together to make a whole reality.

          Velma blindly stalked to the coat closet, throwing the door open.  Thrusting her hand deep into the pocket of Charlie's trench coat, she pulled out a small silver pistol.  He always had it with him, just in case someone on the street tried to harm him, his wife, or Veronica.  Velma clenched the gun tightly in her hand, staring down at it.  She didn't know what she was going to do with it.  Just scare the two, she supposed.

          She trudged back out into the hotel suite, where the pair had gone back at it like she hadn't even caught them.  Raising the pistol, Velma pointed it at Charlie.  Her lips twisted and she growled angrily at him, gaining his attention once again.  "You filthy _bastard!" she spat._

          Before she knew what she was doing, a deafening shot rang out and Charlie lay bleeding on the white sheets.  Veronica scrambled away from him, clutching her fingers up by her mouth, staring from the dead man to the woman that shot him.

          "And you…" Velma seethed deeply.  Heat built up, burning behind her eyes.  "You're supposed to be my _sister…!" she cried hoarsely.  "You…you…"  Another shot rang out, and Veronica hit the bed's backboard before slumping downward into her own blood._

          Velma dropped the gun, shaking all over as she stared upon the pair bleeding on the silken sheets.  "Oh God…" she murmured, hurrying over to them.  As she moved them, though, she knew that they were gone.  Her lip trembled as she surveyed the blood of her two loved ones on her hands, but no tears would come.  Only one thought came to her mind.  "The show…"

          "Keep the change," Velma told the driver of the taxicab that had taken her to the Onyx nightclub.  She hurried down the back alleyway, pulling her black coat more tightly about herself.  As she was about to open the door to enter the back stage area, she noticed a poster hanging by the doorway announcing the day and time of she and Veronica's act…that evening.  Anger flooded her, and she reached up, tearing the poster in half, crumpling the part that had Veronica's name on it.

          "Where you been?" the stage producer asked angrily, following Velma through the back stage as she stormed through.  "And where's Veronica?"

          "She's not herself tonight," Velma replied shortly, mounting the steps to her dressing room.

          "But they paid to see a sister act!" he replied, following her up the metal staircase.

          "Don't sweat it, I can do it alone," she replied darkly, slamming the door in his face.  Unaccompanied at last, she dropped her suitcase onto the vanity, throwing it open.  She took the silver pistol out, wrapping it in a silk scarf before hiding it away in a drawer.  "One down," she thought, hurrying to the sink.  Turning on the flow of water, she quickly attempted to wash the dried blood from her hands.  "Shit," she hissed angrily, roughly turning off the water.

          It only took a moment to get dressed, and it wasn't long before she was being rushed onto a small platform by the stage crew.  "Break a leg!" one of the crew members said, wishing her good luck as the platform began to lift her through an opening in the stage.  As Velma stood facing the audience, hearing the oh-so-familiar tune of "All That Jazz" beginning, she knew that it would be her last performance for a long time…and she was going to go out with a bang.  Or, rather…_two bangs.  The show must go on, after all…_


End file.
